


A Rather Remarkable Resemblance

by missbecky



Series: When Harry Met Darcy [3]
Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Fluff, Humor, M/M, No Actors Were Harmed During the Writing of This Fic, Poor Harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-24
Updated: 2016-04-24
Packaged: 2018-06-04 07:02:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6646969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missbecky/pseuds/missbecky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry finally comes face to face with his nemesis, a certain famous movie star.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Rather Remarkable Resemblance

**Author's Note:**

> Any resemblance to any living persons, whether living or dead, is entirely coincidental. The shout-out to the Kingsman comic is intentional, though.
> 
> Also, I regret nothing.

"Have you seen the sweet new bike they got in the motor pool?" Eggsy asks as the shuttle slows for its arrival at HQ. 

"I wasn't aware you could ride," Harry says.

"Can't." Eggsy stands up. "Always wanted to learn, though."

The doors open and they step out. "We'll have to arrange that then," Harry says. "Flying lessons, too, while we're at it."

Eggsy grins. The sight of his smile never fails to lift Harry's heart. For too much of his life Eggsy had far too little reason to smile; he would do anything to keep that look on Eggsy's face.

They pause to look down into the hangar, and Eggsy points. "See it?"

Before Harry can answer, his glasses emit the soft tone of an incoming. "Galahad, Arthur wishes to speak with you."

"I'll be right there," Harry says.

Eggsy gives him an inquiring look. "Arthur," Harry says. 

"Good luck," Eggsy says. 

****

Arthur is in the parlor, a fire in the hearth. Harry sits across from him and they exchange the usual greetings. 

"I'm afraid we may have a situation on our hands," Arthur says. "It's small now, but we can't risk it growing too large. It could be very dangerous for us."

Harry says nothing.

"To be honest I'm not entirely convinced that you're the right person for this job," Arthur says. He gazes at Harry through narrowed eyes. "But then again, you might be the only one who can pull this off."

"What do you need?" Harry asks. 

"It may be nothing," Arthur says. "Pure coincidence. But if not, it means we have a leak."

This is alarming enough that Harry sits up a little.

"There is a movie called _Agents of the Crown_ currently filming at a studio not far from here. It's about a secret spy agency composed of wealthy gentlemen." Arthur pauses. "I need you to check it out. Find out where they got their information, and who is involved."

Harry nods. Over the years there has been the occasional time when Hollywood got a thing or two right. But this does sound a little too familiar. "How did you find out about it?"

Arthur's expression tightens. "It's actually your doing. Thanks to your recent...public disguises...we've been keeping tabs on, shall we say, certain members of the acting profession."

Suspicion blooms heavy and cold in the pit of Harry's stomach. No. Oh no. 

"Would you be surprised to learn who the producer and star of this new film is?" Arthur asks. 

Harry shuts his eyes. _Fuck._

****

Eggsy almost pisses himself laughing when he finds out. "Bet ya a tenner he takes a swing at you."

"That would be a very big mistake," Harry says coolly.

Eggsy just laughs harder. 

****

Harry learned long ago that a confident expression and a sure stride can get one through a lot of doors that would otherwise remain closed. This continues to be the case at the movie studio. 

Of course, it helps that everybody who sees him thinks he's someone else. 

_Agents of the Crown_ has to be the most ridiculous movie title Harry has ever heard. He has to admit to a film junkie's curiosity, though. He almost wishes he could linger in the studio and take a look around. It isn't often one gets to see the magic behind the camera.

After a few false starts he finds the actors' trailers and heads that way. He mounts the steps to the one he needs and out of long habit raises his hand to knock. A split second later he realizes his error. This is supposed to be his trailer. He should just go in. 

Harry takes a deep breath, squares his shoulders, and marches inside.

The interior of the trailer is quite nicely appointed. He takes immediate notice of anything that could be used as a weapon and mentally files it away for future use. He certainly doesn't expect things to reach that point, but then again, he's never been in this type of situation before. 

The trailer is empty. 

A copy of the script lies on the table, however. Harry flips it open and starts leafing through it. Right away he finds some major differences between Kingsman and the film's spy agency. It's reassuring enough that he feels better about the concerns of a leak within their ranks. It's still a possibility, but he really doesn't think so. For better or worse, it seems like this is truly just a coincidence.

He's near the end of the script -- the hero just got killed -- when the trailer door opens and someone walks inside. 

It's not quite like looking in a mirror, but it's close. Very close. Colin Firth is maybe an inch taller and his glasses are fake, but to a casual observer, the resemblance between them is really rather remarkable. 

"You!" The actor's eyes widen in astonishment at first, but after that first shock, he looks angry. For a fleeting moment Harry thinks that Eggsy was right after all, and he's going to have to punch an internationally famous film star in the face. 

"What are you doing here?"

"I thought it was time we had a talk," Harry says. Even though he has every expectation of using the amnesia dart in his watch at the end of this conversation. 

"Yes, I think so," says Colin Firth. He practically radiates hostility as he walks forward. It's enough to throw Harry off guard a little; this man is nothing at all like the fool he's seen on TV.

They sit opposite each other at the table, the script for _Agents of the Crown_ between them. It's still open to the page Harry was reading when he was interrupted, a scene where the agent named Jack London gets shot in the head by the villain.

Which reminds Harry that the last person he braced for information had his head explode, and he spent months in a coma as a result. He's pretty certain that isn't going to happen here, but all the same, he would do well to tread lightly. 

He taps the script. "What do you know about this group, these Agents of the Crown?"

"I'm sorry, who are you again?" asks Colin Firth. "Are we related?"

"Don't be absurd," Harry says acidly. "Just answer the question."

"Not until you've answered mine," says Colin Firth, and Harry has half a mind to just shoot him and be done with it. 

And Eggsy calls _him_ stubborn. 

"You are making my life rather difficult right now," Harry says with exaggerated patience, trying to remain calm and remember that he can't just go around slapping internationally famous film stars in the face. "So I would greatly appreciate it if you --"

" _I'm_ making your life difficult?" Colin Firth glares at him. "Those pictures of you are everywhere!"

"Would you be quiet!" Harry snaps. He's going to owe Eggsy ten pounds for sure.

Colin Firth leans back in his chair, shaking his head. He still looks angry, but now he seems puzzled as well. "Don't you know there are ways of keeping your picture out of the papers?"

Of course there are, but Harry wouldn't expect a mere actor to know them. He's about to say as much when it abruptly strikes him that for someone who's been part of the Hollywood scene for so long, Colin Firth really does have an impeccable reputation, which is not at all easy to achieve. 

Or at least he _did_ , until Harry came along. 

With a newfound and rather grudging respect, Harry says, "So tell me."

They stare at each other in chilly silence. Then Colin Firth suddenly stands up. He actually looms over Harry for a moment, but then he smiles, all warm and friendly. He's become the public person again, the perfect blend of English charm and grace. The startling ease of his transformation almost makes Harry sorry that he's otherwise employed; Kingsman could always use someone who understands how to use deceit, as well as his type of connections.

"I think," Colin Firth says, "that we are actually in a position to help one another. Would you like some tea, Mister...?"

There's nothing for it. He's going to have to share something if he wants to find out about this damn script.

"London," he says faintly. It's the only thing Harry can think to say, still bewildered over how quickly he was defeated. "My name is Jack London."

"I rather thought it might be," says Colin Firth, and hands him his tea. 

****

Despite everything he's seen in his life, Harry can proudly claim that he's never been so distracted that he's fallen victim to that annoying cliché of walking into a lamppost. As he's leaving the studio, though, he sees something that very nearly makes him do this exact thing. Only his sharp reflexes keep him from colliding with a golf cart parked on the pavement.

A nasty – and very embarrassing – incident averted, he just stands there for a long moment, openly staring.

And then he smiles.

****

Back at home he barely gets in the front door before Eggsy pounces, full of questions. "How did it go? Did you have to use the dart? What was he like? Did you get his autograph? Is he gonna stop being such a pain in the arse?"

Harry takes his coat off and hangs it up. "You needn't worry," he says. "Our little problem has gone away. Everything has been handled."

"Yeah?" Eggsy stops in front of him. "Good."

"Very much so," Harry says. He reaches into his pocket, pulls out a single piece of paper, and offers it to Eggsy.

"What's this, then?" Eggsy asks.

"Your next little problem," Harry says as he hands him the photograph.

"Holy fuck," Eggsy breathes. "You gotta be kidding me."

Harry watches his reaction and can't help smirking. He knows he shouldn't, but a part of him is sincerely enjoying this.

"Its name is Taron."


End file.
